Three Kisses
by Stylex
Summary: Three times, they kissed. One time they did more than that. And now Hermione can't stop thinking about him.
1. Chapter 1

NOTICE: The following story is pure fiction and is not based on any true events. The characters are the property of their creator- J.K. Rowling. I do not mean to make any profit by using them in the story.

WARNING: This story might contain mature scenes; in terms of: language, depiction of sexual intimacy, and depressive characters. I would request you to not go any further if you are averse to any of these things, or if you are under 18 years of age.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hereby state once again that I do not make any monetary profit of any kid from this story, nor am I claiming the characters. Save for the story, everything else belongs to JK Rowling.

There will be no more disclaimers. This special disclaimer applies to all chapters in the future.


	2. I

It started in fourth year, their meetings, or so Hermione liked to call them because they were not really meetings, just glances and looks given to each other while passing in the corridors and small one-line conversations during the classes if they happened to be close to each other. Hermione hadn't really started them deliberately or with any intention of having any cordial relationship with Malfoy, but they just happened. From what she recalled, neither she nor Malfoy had been exactly friendly with each other, but they always seemed to have something to say to each other. Most of the times she had felt like hitting him again like in third year but she still carried on those secret rendezvous and conversations with him. She remembered how it had happened the first time...

It was the Yule Ball, and the bell chimes told 11'O clock. Hermione had sat down with Harry and Ron, feeling hot from dancing when Ron had started on her for 'fraternising with the enemy'. In the end she got up, frustrated, and came out of the Great Hall, and into the Entrance Hallway. A lot of girls were standing there. One of them noticed her and nudged her partner, immediately the whole group was glaring at her. She recognised them, it was the Viktor Krum fan club and these girls constantly followed him everywhere he went. As the girls started whispering to each other about Hermione, (taking care to be loud enough- 'what does he see in her?', and 'he rejected me for _her_!' and 'I don't see anything so extraordinary.') she couldn't take it. Her mind was on Ron, she had been wondering how to identify the reason behind his stupid behaviour minutes ago and whether it showed that he was jealous- of Hermione or of Victor, she didn't know that, when the girls started talking about Krum. And suddenly she remembered what Ginny had whispered to her before leaving for the ball-about the possibility of Viktor kissing her. Even thinking about kissing anyone let alone _Viktor Bloody Krum_ made Hermione blush.

Suddenly the Entrance Hallway seemed to have turned hotter, stifling. She needed air, cold air. She moved away immediately towards the entrance door, turned the fat doorknob and stepped outside. She wasn't sure that she was supposed to be out here but she could tell that there must be couples out here, in the bushes. The thought almost made her go back but she needed the cold air. It was December and she was clad in a thin, no arms floaty dress but she still walked away, eager for the coldness to engulf her, to make her alert. She walked down the stairs briskly, afraid that anyone would see her, and turned left to go behind the castle where she knew the area would be deserted because there were no bushes there. Already the cold had started affecting her; she rubbed her palms on her bare arm, breathing through her mouth. As she came to the clearing beside the tress, she sighed, the night looked spectacular. The sky was inky black with stars twinkling like diamonds. It was all quiet here, and the place suddenly seemed spiritual, soothing, as compared to the faint din of the party that she had left behind. In the distance, she could see Hagrid's hut, all black now, giving it a very medieval look as if it belonged to an ancient time. She inhaled the smell of air around her and stood by the cold wall, taking its support, finally feeling calm after the whole day.

Suddenly someone coughed; the sound came from her right, from the trees. Hermione jumped and gave a tiny shriek. Then came the sound of jumping, and she heard a boy swear.

"What the fuck!"

"Who's there?" Hermione asked. Already her wand was out and pointing at the direction from where the sound came.

"I'd like to know the same thing," said a drawling voice.

She immediately recognized his voice. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she snapped.

"Who's that?" he asked, a little more irritated. Then a beam of light fell from his wand on her, Hermione straightened her hand, ready to tackle any curse if it came sailing.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here." He said. "The Lady Mudblood herself." Hermione knew that talking to Draco _Son-of-a-bitch_ Malfoy was useless. All she'll get from him are taunts and insults. She immediately turned away to go back in the castle, knowing it was useless standing there anymore. Malfoy followed her.

"Off to your surly boyfriend?" He drawled from behind.

Hermione made no reply.

"I wonder why he chose you as his special date when he could have had dozens better."  
"Don't let him get your buttons," Hermione told herself. Her walk became brisk.

"Oh, in a hurry, are we?" He had noticed. "Why the sudden hurry, when you'd been standing there for Merlin knows how long?"

Again she made no reply, but silently climbed the steps to Entrance gate which were bathed in moonlight.

"Oh, I know, you must have been thinking how to get the answer of the clue from Potter to give Krum, right, Granger?"

Hermione turned fiercely, and skidded slightly on the cold glazed surface of the marble floor under her, and caught hold of Malfoy's neck to support her body accidently. He had been just behind her so that meant that meant that there was not much space between them. Hermione had not meant to do it, but in order to balance herself she ended up holding his neck. For a moment, Malfoy looked frightened.

The expression he had on his face was too much, she couldn't help laughing. As she laughed, Malfoy regained his manliness and pushed her away, making a disgusted face.

"How dare you touch me, Mudblood?" He said.

Unlike before, his words deeply affected Hermione. She liked to say they _affected_ her, but it actually means that Malfoy pissed her off real bad. It entered her mind, the indifferent disgust in his voice, full of malice and hatred. Her hand rose involuntarily, she didn't consciously remember making the decision, but her hand was up and she was going to slap him again, (were they making it a ritual, a slap for Malfoy from Hermione every year?) when he caught it. He looked slightly surprised at his own action for a moment but then her hand was in his vice like grip and he was twisting it.

"Ouch," Hermione said softly, and immediately regretted it because of the look of satisfaction it brought on Malfoy's face.

"Yeah, _ouch_." He said, twisting her hand more. Her wand dropped from her other hand as she tried to free herself from his grip. "You were going to slap me again, huh, Granger? Again? How dare you, you filthy-"

But he suddenly stopped. Hermione looked up; she had been looking down, biting down a cry that was in her throat as she tried pry Malfoy's fingers from her hand. It was then that she noticed how close they both were standing to each other; she was almost nose-to-nose with Malfoy.

The expression she saw in his eyes did not match with the action he was doing at the moment. He was looking at her so intently, so deeply, directly into her eyes, that she stopped struggling. His breath fell on her face, and just like the cold, it made her hair stand up.

Malfoy had also noticed how things had progressed and how they were practically standing there half hugging-half wrestling. He jerked his hands away from her and stepped back. He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time or as if she had changed in some way in front of him. She stared back, astonished, trying to decipher the strange look on his face.

Then he side-stepped her and opened the entrance door and walked away as of nothing that had just happened had happened. The din of the party still going on inside in the great hall hit Hermione, who had her back to the door, then the door shut back and there was silence again.

She kept standing there transfixed, whether in shock or just to give Malfoy enough time to move away so that she doesn't see him on her way back. She was not going to return to the party, let Viktor Krum go to hell. Her hand had started paining slightly and she was done for the night. She turned and stooped to pick up her wand and then slowly walked to the door and pushed her hand out to open it. She didn't need to; it was opening on its own. It was Hagrid, coming out of the party with a lost look on his face. Hermione cowered slightly, cursing her ill luck to be seen by Hagrid there, but he passed her without noticing her. It seemed like the ball hadn't gone nice for most of the people.

She shut the door after her and made her way across sleepy couples surrounding the entrance hall area. She took the stairs, holding her left hand in right, making way across girls sitting surrounding a crying girl in the middle. If she had turned back to look at the great hall's entrance, she would have seen the gray eyes that followed her till she went out of their vision.


	3. 2

Sometimes Hermione wondered what would have happened if she would have accepted Draco's invitation that night. Though she knew that she wasn't supposed to (or rather, she shouldn't) remember all those times spent with Draco Malfoy but sometimes she just sat down and thought, really thought (and in a deep corner of her heart, resented) what exactly had made her refuse Draco. He was all for it, she knew it, he was all for it even after two long years. And she had been expecting it from him because she had always been able to tell his needs, his wants, _his thoughts_, just from the expressions on his face. When she used to see him in the corridors of the ministry during the years she was getting her higher education in Magical Law, she could see that he wanted to resume the relationship they had once had, she could see the mute plea the silver eyes said, that he wanted to be at least on talking terms with her. One part of her had felt like going out to him again, lending him an ear, a shoulder to lean on, just like she had done in school, but the times had changed. She was being hailed as the superwoman of the Golden Trio, and his and his family's reputation had just been washed off. She wasn't being a hypocrite, god knows she never cared for the Malfoy family reputation; she wasn't influenced by things like that. But the divide between the Malfoys and the side to which she belonged had been recently highlighted. She belonged to the Light Side, _She wore the_ _Golden Halo,_ according to a Daily Prophet reporter whereas _he_ had become the washed up death-eater, the one being subjected to the integrated hate of the whole of wizarding people. They were too long gone now; they couldn't sneak from their friends and meet in secret annexes anymore, they had to accept what they should've accepted years ago: their friendship was just wasn't meant to be.

Before she retired to bed that night of the Yule ball, she wrapped a woollen muffler on the arm which Malfoy had twisted. She cursed him inwardly and laid down, alone in her dorm as all the girls were still down at the ball. For a moment she felt like going to the Gryffindor boys' dorm to meet Harry and Ron- but Ron would be there and she really didn't want to see him right then, right away after they'd had a fight. She'd come up in the common room, clutching her arm, and a few minutes later Ron was there minus Harry and looking like he wanted to take off right where she had left him. During the whole heated conversation she had just hated him, completely. She hated him for being so pissed at her for going to the ball with Viktor Krum, she hated him for standing there the whole time, shouting 'fraternising with the enemy' shit, she hated him for not seeing that she was clutching her arm in a way which clearly told(according to her) that it was hurt.

But no, Ron the Moron had to be stupid, that was his defining characteristic. And it was not just him who was so proficient at being moronic, it was Harry too. Even he hadn't noticed her clutched arm. She sighed as she shifted in her bed, why did she expect so much of Harry when she didn't from Ron? After all, he was also just a boy. _With more intelligence capability_, she thought. As she thought of intelligence, she also thought of why she hadn't just jinxed Malfoy when he caught her arm. Why hadn't she just done some charm to keep his hand off? Sometimes, Hermione thought, my muggle habits get the better of me. And then she thought of what Malfoy had done. Why was he staring at her? And continuously at that. And then he had abruptly left her hand and walked away as if suddenly embarrassed at something that he had done.

Just then, the dormitory door opened and Partvati and Lavender burst in, both giggling. "The Durmstrang boy was so nice, and Harry was such a prat." Parvati seemed to be saying. "Wonder how did Hermione's go?" Lavender's voice said.

Hermione clamped her eyes shut under her poster bed curtains. Quite rightly, Lavender drew apart a little of one of the curtains and peaked in. "She's here, sleeping. If she's already sleeping, then it means that it didn't go well." She said. Hermione noted that she sounded jealous.

"How did Krum meet her anyway?" asked Parvati. "She isn't even a quidditch fan."

It took them quite a lot of time to shut up, but Hermione kept lying there with her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep and soon sleep claimed her.

The next time that she met Malfoy was at Thursday's potions class. It wasn't a meeting exactly, because she had been made by the Great Potions Master, Severus Sodding Snape, to sit away from Harry and Ron to sit with Pansy Parkinson across the room who happened to be sharing a seat with Malfoy. As she picked up her bag and made her way to Parkinson's seat, she noticed two things: the scowl on Parkinson's face and the sudden completely interested look that Malfoy had started giving his potions book determinedly. She sat down beside Parkinson, seating herself at some distance but still felt her scoot away as if Hermione was something smelly. During the whole class as Snape taught he kept looking in her direction as if checking whether she was still there. And then Hermione understood: he must be looking at Malfoy. Why, though, she thought curiously. When Snape's glances persisted, Hermione thought of chancing a glance at Malfoy. But that would've meant that she would have to lean forward in her seat and turn her head in Malfoy's direction which would make her intention very obvious to the Slytherins sitting with and around her, if not clear. At this point of time Snape ordered the class to write down what he had just taught them. As Hermione took out a scroll and a quill form her bag she realised that she had left her inkpot with Harry. Great. This meant that now she would have to ask Snape's permission to get it, giving him another perfect excuse to deduct points from Gryffindor not to mention humiliate her and possibly Harry too. Sighing inwardly, she put up her hand. She had no choice. Immediately, Snape's eyes swivelled to her face.

"Yes, Ms Granger?" As she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed that half the class' attention was now fixed on her. Harry was completely looking back, his torso turned towards her.

"I would like to take my inkpot from Harry, sir."

"And why would you like that, Ms Granger?"

"Because I don't have it with me, sir."

"And why are you without your inkpot?"

"Because Harry has it, sir."

Half the class burst out laughing, (okay, all the gryffindors) and then immediately shut up at the look Snape gave them. Hermione had not meant to be cheeky, but the words had slipped out of her mouth before she could think. Snape was looking a little pissed, but that surprisingly gave her a slight sardonic pleasure.

"Finally taking on the Gryffindor qualities, Ms Granger?" He said. "Not a big surprise, considering your elegant company." He taunted, his eyes lingering on Ron. Parkinson chuckled.

"May I take my inkpot, sir?" Hermione asked again.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor." He snapped. Behind his back, an inkpot elevated itself from Harry's desk and floated itself towards Hermione. She had not been expecting Snape to do that, she had been thinking she'll _accio_ the inkpot. It came towards her, but did not quite reach her and stayed in the air, hovering. As it hovered above her, she reached out for it, but it suddenly shot out of her range.

"Stand up and get it Ms Granger," Snape ordered. Of course, this had been Snape's real intention, to mock her like that.

Hermione stood up. Even then it was not near her. The inkpot still hovered away from her, so much that she had to stretch her hand to take it. As her hands clamped around its cold surface, she noticed that Malfoy was looking at her hand. Then she got why: it was her left hand, the one which he had twisted the night of the ball, and which now showed a bandage on it. Nobody had noticed it because she wore long sleeves because of the weather. But as she had stretched her hand towards the inkpot, the woollen bandage had started to show. She immediately jerked her sleeve straight, hiding the bandage again. And then almost involuntarily, her eyes met Draco's. He had also been looking at her. But as soon as she looked, he looked down. Her hand still at her sleeve, Hermione sat down.

From that day on, Hermione started to feel a little uneasy around Malfoy. Not that she was around him much, but whenever she was, she would avert her eyes. Maybe because Malfoy had taken upon himself to stare at her or her hand whenever he passed her in halls or during classes. The next time she saw him was on the snow covered grounds for their Care of Magical Creatures class. As harry, Ron and she approached the place near Hagrid's hut where he usually took their lessons, she saw that Malfoy was already standing there, flanked with those thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. He had been speaking, but as he saw her approach, he stopped. And then his eyes dropped to her hand, and then up at her face. She looked away, silently wishing that this Malfoy-staring-at-her everytime-he-sees-her-thing was completely her imagination. Thankfully the boys were not paying attention as Professor Grubbly-Plank had just came into their view, announcing that she'll be teaching instead of Hagrid today.

But that was not the only time he stared at her. During supper that very date, she had been looking at the back of Viktor Krum's head as he sat at the Slytherin table, thinking about whether he really deserved the fanatic status he had. Hermione had found him sweet, he was eager to please her and get in her good books, to know about her and he was impressed with her, in other words, completely smitten. Hermione dropped her eyes to her plate, her cheeks going red. When she looked up again, he had stood up and gone as per his habit to leave as soon as his dinner was finished. As he left and cleared the view, Hermione's eyes straight met Draco Malfoy's. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly; as she realized with a panic that he had the same expression on his face, that same deep, unfathomable expression. It was there for a moment, and then he looked away. Hermione also dropped her eyes hastily; her heart beating a lot faster than usual. For a split second, she thought of telling Ron and Harry about it-but the idea itself was enough to get her back her senses. Malfoy is just looking; she reasoned to herself, he isn't doing anything threatening. And besides, what would she tell the boys? That Malfoy is staring at her? She took a deep breath to calm herself; Malfoy had just become a little fascina- she could not even bring herself to complete the thought. Whatever weird _phase_, Malfoy was going through, would pass, she told herself. And then Harry turned to her, (he had been staying quite silent these days) and asked her something. Hermione was so preoccupied about Malfoy acting creepy that she didn't hear him the first time. He had to repeat his question twice for her to hear it right.

The next day, as she left for her arithmancy class after lunch usually early than she did, because she had to understand a concept which she had found in a library book from Professor Vector. After a few minutes, she realized someone was there in the lonely yard (which she passed daily for her arithmancy class). She looked back and saw a blond boy in green robes. Shit. It was Malfoy.

Her heart beat quickened and she started to walk faster, feeling a strange kind of thrilling fear. A few minutes later, as she was taking the stairs, she looked down, and again saw Malfoy. This time he tried to hide himself. Losing all control, Hermione took off her shoes and ran. She ran so fast and without any clue as to where she was going, she just wanted to get away from Malfoy. Somehow she emerged on the floor which had Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Hermione made a beeline for it. She did not know why she was afraid of what Draco might do, maybe he was just going some other way and she jumped to the conclusion that he was following her. But anyway, Hermione burst into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (thankfully, she was not there) and shut herself up in a cubicle. She kept sitting there, holding her wand, with her sock getting wet from the water on the floor, till she was absolutely sure that she had heard the sound of the bell ringing and the hustle-bustle of the crowd. Even then, she checked the crowd before she stepped out.

The next day was a holiday. She spent some time with Viktor , he seemed very eager to meet her on the snow-clad grounds. They sat down on a bench and Viktor started talking excitedly. After talking to her for a while, he suddenly said-

"Yoo look exactly the way I thought you vood."

"What?" said Hermione. He was looking at her with an intense expression, kind of demanding.

"Against the snow, you look exactly the vay I pictured you vood look."

Hermione could only gape in reply before he leaned in.

Later, as she left for the castle, she thought about what he had said. It had been a very abstract kind of compliment (or rather a comment) to give to a girl. But he came from a country where winters were dominant, and it kind of made of sense for him to wish to see her against the snow. "Oh, the colour of your cheek," He had laughed as he had pulled away after they had kissed. Hermione's face went hot again as she opened the door of the entrance hall. Her stomach lurched at the thought of telling Ginny about it. How would she do it? Or maybe she won't. But Ginny had told her all about her first crush and the date she'd just had with him. And Hermione had promised- a sudden noise behind her broke her reverie, and she looked behind to see.

It was Malfoy. Again.

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AN: Hello. :) I would love to hear what you think of the story yet.

God Bless:*


	4. 3

This time though, Hermione didn't panic. Instead, she just stopped walking and drew to one side of the staircase, took out her wand, pushed it inside her sleeve, and crossing her arms, leaned against the staircase. Malfoy was sure to come this way, and if he was not following her, he'll just sneer and pass; if not, then she'll see.

As she had thought, Malfoy did come up after her a minute later. He looked around searchingly before he noticed her standing there. She was not looking at him, she was looking at her shoe, but she was still watching. He had stopped, and he was again staring at her, this time at her head.

"What, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped.

"What, Granger?" He said back, matching her sharpness.

"What are you doing here?" She asked angrily.

"What are you doing here?"He asked back.

"I'm waiting for Viktor Krum!" Hermione said, sneering.

"Yeah well, I'm waiting for Potter!"

"What?" Hermione said blankly.

Malfoy himself looked shocked at what had come out of his mouth. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Suddenly, he turned and started running down the stairs.

"Hey!" Hermione yelled and went after him. He was at the foot of the stairs when they broke off, leaving him no choice but to stay. As Hermione stopped after him, the stairs they were standing on also broke off, and Malfoy turned to her resentfully.

"Why are you here?" She asked. She had, of course, understood that he was not waiting for Potter or anyone else really, and what he had said had been a slip of tongue. It was written on his face.

"None of your business." He snapped. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy..." She started, but then he burst.

"Fine! I came after you!"

"And why, may I ask?"

At this point the stairs attached themselves to another, forming an exit for Malfoy. He quickly seized the opportunity and walked up, and Hermione thought that she will not get her answer, and neither will she ever meet him again like this. She was so wrong.

Malfoy did leave that day hurriedly without giving even one insulting comment to Hermione, and though he _did_ not answer her question, but that was not the end of it. From that day onwards, whenever Hermione saw him again, it was she who staring at him now, analysing him, guessing his feelings from the expressions on his face. He, on the other hand, first got flushed to see her looking at him (Hermione kind of enjoyed that), then started giving her his regular sneers and then altogether learned to ignore her. But soon even that went away. By the time Harry had completed his second task for Triwizard competition, Hermione and Malfoy had settled down to a silent pact of friendship, it was a pact because it had been enforced by both the sides, but there was nothing exactly friendly about it, it was more like that they (mostly Malfoy) grew more tolerant towards each other. Hermione remembered how he used to give her those silent nods of recognition whenever they used to pass each other in the school corridors; sometimes it was just a stare. From Hermione's side it was nothing more than sidelong looks and glances while passing and once, a smile. It had been a very small one, and Malfoy had avoided her for at least a week after that while Hermione had wondered whether she had done anything wrong in trying to be civil. And then again, Malfoy had tracked her down.

It hadn't been exactly tracking her down, more like following her into the library, but he had done that and they had had their first actual meet. She still remembered it; she had been pre-occupied in searching defensive charms for Harry and had not really noticed him walking silently behind her till they had reached the library. Then she had straight-away headed for the deeper section of the shelves where not many people ventured. "If he was following me, then he'll follow me still." When she had turned around after drawing a chair for herself, she had found him looking surprised.

"You knew I was there?" He asked.

She looked at him coolly. "Of course, Malfoy, I'm not lost in the head."

His tone changed. "You looked like you were." Which was probably the truth.

"What is it?" She asked, coming straight to the point. "What d'you want?"

He looked surprised at her question. "Noth-nothing." He said.

"Nothing?" Hermione repeated.

"I mean, nothing relevant, actually." He amended, regaining the confidence in his voice.

"So what is it, of irrelevance?" Hermione asked. Why exactly had he followed her here?

He was looking pissed at himself, as if regretting his situation. "I haven't exactly got the whole day for you, Malfoy, so if you'll please-"

"I just wanted to ask, how's your hand?" He interrupted.

"My hand?" Hermione asked. _The one you had twisted?_ She thought. He made no movement of confirmation.

"It's fine." She said, wondering why he was suddenly asking this after months. But at least he had had the curtsey, she thought, and coming from Slytherins, that's a lot.

"Its fine," she repeated again, holding it up now. His eyes travelled to it once, then flicked back to her face. They remained like that for the next few moments, Hermione's left hand before her face, and Malfoy staring into her eyes. Then he turned and left without another word, and Hermione let her hand down. She watched him walk away, and then with a sigh stood up to search for books.

Now all these years later Hermione thought more and more about Draco Malfoy as the date of her marriage to Ron inched nearer. As she and Ginny shopped for the best white cloth for her veil, there was a corner of her mind thinking about Draco, constantly, and then as the days passed, with a certain ache. This greatly worried Hermione for she never liked to be uncertain of things and even the thought that she was uncertain (about what, she dared not ask herself) panicked her enough to reduce her to tears and she had to leave her apartment in the middle of the night to flee to her parent's. She had desperately needed her mother's bony hands on her back spreading warmth to her skin as she sat at the kitchen table holding a hot cup of cocoa. Her father termed it bridal jitters with an air of dislike to anything relating the word _bride_ to his daughter. Her parents had become possessive of her to an extent since she sought them out in Australia after the war ended, even though they didn't remember at all that they'd ever been bereaved from their daughter. But Hermione was immune to their likes and dislikes at the moment, she was too immersed in herself to even register her father's displeasure at the thought of his daughter getting married.

She retired to her former room to take a bath before leaving for her apartment the next morning. She rummaged through the cupboard that she had once used and which now kept her old muggle clothing. There was nothing that fit her anymore from those clothes. In the end she pulled out a sweatshirt that belonged to her father and was two sizes bigger for her. She pulled out a pyjama (the only thing loose enough at the waist) of hers which she had last worn when she was in fifth year of Hogwarts. She quickly changed and went down to breakfast; she really needed to hurry, for today was the day when she and Ron made their engagement officially known to the wizarding world. The thought made her stomach lurch. She hurriedly ate and left giving the 'getting late' excuse to her parents. She looked one last time before disapparating; her parents were standing at the arch in their drawing room with a slightly mournful expression on their faces.

As soon as she apparated in front of her house, she wished she hadn't. A large group of journalists were standing outside her house with Ron between them, with a slightly harried look on his face. There seemed to be a lot of noise as a lot of journalists seemed to be speaking at the same time and Ron was trying to quieten them, but his voice was not loud enough. Hermione thought of Apparating back unnoticed by anyone, but at the same time a photographer turned towards her. _Shoot_, Hermione thought as the whole group turned towards and several people cried out-_There's the bride!_

Ron looked at her and his eyebrows rose. Beside him, Hermione vaguely noticed as the journalists ran towards her in a large, alarming herd, Harry stood with his mouth slightly open. Both men looked dumbfounded at her appearance. Hermione suppressed a giggle.

"Are you marrying Ronald Weasely?" a young journalist shouted at her. Several others shouted the same.

"Yes," She said, smiling at the whole stupidity of the situation.

"When?"

"Soon, I think."

By now Ron had squeezed his way in through the crowd of reporters and took her hand.

"Why are you wearing such tight muggle pants?" He whispered. She somehow heard him and smiled.

"Pyjamas, not pants." She said, again suppressing a giggle. He looked at her, not able to understand what was funny.

"How did he propose?" Some woman asked loudly.

"He didn't," The words were out her mouth before she could think. The people around them chuckled.

"Then did you propose?"A man standing in the front asked.

"Yes, but it was more of a threat." Hermione said to general laughter. "I said to him, either you marry me or else..."

Ron was looking at her in shock. She laughed as she met his eyes. "What're you doing?" He asked. "Just having some fun,"

"What is this dress?" Someone asked. "Is it muggle?"

"Yes," She said, nodding.

"Where will you marry? What will you wear?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Ron beat her to it.

"We haven't got to that part yet," He said hastily. "We have just decided to get married."

Hermione gave him a sly smile.

"Kiss her!" Someone shouted. Ron's eyes me her with a hint of apprehension, but Hermione was already standing on her toes, her mouth angled towards him. As her arms came around his neck, he had no other option but to succumb. Smiling, Ron also took her waist and stooped down. The crowd around them literally went mad as their lips met.

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Hey! Please tell me what you think. I'm going crazy here and would really like to know what you have to say. Bye! God bless :)


	5. 4

He woke up in the night, as suddenly as if someone had shouted in his ear. But there was no one there, except the figure lying next to him. He recoiled as he felt the warmth from the body, but then remembered it was the girl mother had set him a blind date with. She had long black hair, now strewn across the silk pillow under her. He checked under the sheets, she was not clothed, and neither was he. How come she landed here? He thought as he turned away from her. For the past four years, he had never had a single relationship which went longer than three weeks, a month at maximum. And frankly speaking, he had never felt like it. His mother seemed to think that he was in love with Pansy Parkinson who went out with him in his seventh year, though it wasn't exactly 'going out' when all they did was snog in his dormitory in their free classes. Since the time mother had attended Pansy's wedding in the summer this year, she had turned fanatic about getting him married. Though, he thought, father's death had also contributed. His father had been found dead in his bed one morning when he didn't wake up. Mother had been devastated, but she had pulled herself together and moved on. For my sake? He thought.

The body beside him moved. A hand came from behind and rested on his waist. He waited for some moments, and then pushed it away. When the girl made a sound of protest in her sleep, he threw the covers off, and walked away in disgust.

It's not like he didn't want it, the relationship, the love, and he had tried too, on his own. After his trials were over, he had gone out with Daphne Greengrass, his former classmate. But Daphne understood him sooner than he did, and broke it off with "Maybe some other time, Draco." There had never been an 'other time'. The last he had heard, she was going to marry Blaise Zabini this fall, i.e.: in two months. He had not seen her in years. That was the last time he had actually tried to be in a relationship. Since then, something had come off, it wasn't Daphne, he knew that, but what was it? He never felt anything for a woman other than lust and not even that completely; it was just want which momentarily compelled him. If it was not that, then he would simply just start living to work, and even work too, bored him. There was nothing wrong with him, at least not something at which you can put a finger, but there was something wrong with him, colossally. He did not like people's company after some time, it felt like noise. He had abandoned Goyle after the war as had to happen, seeing that Goyle had so many accusations of assisting the Carrows in torturing the students at Hogwarts. And after his own trials had ended, nobody had wanted to be his friend, except the people he had known from school: Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne. Pansy had tried to revive their old relationship after Daphne had broken off with him, but he had already lost it by then. He didn't admit it to himself, but he had changed, drastically.

After all that, he took a training of nine months under Perry Hart, the second-in-command of the Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, and started his job as a young intern in the field of rescue work. His father had been famous, and subsequently, Draco's trials had made him famous too, and coupled with his looks and ash-blond hair, Daily Prophet had made him the famous sexy deatheater or something like that. His sullen attitude had added to the image. Since then, the media had followed his every move. But Draco, who had always been jealous of Harry Potter sharing the limelight, had stopped caring. He didn't care whether he had the best or worst or the easiest job in the world (as long as he had one), he didn't care whether he had a girl on his arm or not, he didn't care whether his friends got married or ran away, or died in crater somewhere on the earth.

He blamed the war. Everybody blamed the war for everything that had gone wrong, and so did he. His father had thought that he had become like that because of his loss of prestige at the trials. His mother thought he was in love Pansy. Draco had laughed at the idea.

He had become exactly the opposite of what he had thought he will be, and that was scary enough. It was scary because it meant that he was losing control. The fact that he cannot bring himself around to enjoy a sunny day with friends or come home to some woman who has waited for him the whole day and will receive him with a hug, (though his mother had done that once but that doesn't count) that he does not like his job and does not even give a shit about that, that he does not care how he looks, or how people perceive him, or whether his hair are tidy or if he wants to eat or what he wants to eat, his mother, his mother's health, his father's last words...

"Draco?" A voice came.

He broke from his reverie and turned back to see the girl he had slept with standing under at doorframe of his balcony-was he in the balcony? He hadn't realized he had come out in the balcony.

"What?" He said, looking into her face intently. Her name was Ellen, or Ella or something like that, he remembered. She worked at St. Mungo's in the psychiatric ward. She was standing behind the door, shielding herself, wearing his bathrobe, he noticed.

"It's cold," She said.

"That's what you have woken up to tell me?" He asked.

The girl stared at him. "No, Draco, its-its four in the morning and you're standing out there in the cold-**naked**!"

_What?_

He hadn't realised that he was naked. No wonder he didn't feel so great at the moment.

The girl had come out now and put a hand on his shoulder. She looked concerned.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." He took her hand off. "Lets go in."

She followed him in with an uncertain expression on her face.

"Draco," She started as he shut the balcony door.

"What?" He said, rather sharply.

She had halted at the sharpness in his voice. "Is there anything that you'd like to tell me?"

"Like what?" He said and turned away from her. She followed him into his bedroom.

"Anything." She said. "Is there something that's troubling you, because you can tell me anythin-"

"Your psychiatric crap may have worked in melting my mother's heart, Ella," He snapped. "But I'm not your patient. If I needed to see a shrink, I'll go see one."

Her eyes had narrowed, and she stood in front of him with her arms crossed. After he had done speaking, she spoke.

"Elda." She said. He stared at her for a second, confused. Then he realised that she was telling him her name. He started to speak, realising that he may have hurt her, (though not because he cared for her feelings but because he didn't want a lecture from his mother), but she was already pulling her under-shirt over her arm. He stood there watching her svelte figure stoop and pick up clothes from a pile beside his bed. Then as he approached her, really feeling guilty for being a jerk, she turned around.

"I had a nice time tonight." She said, surprising him. He had not been expecting these words after he had literally insulted her.

"Um, I'm-"

"You have a nice choice, you know," She continued, walking away from him to pick up her cloak which lay sprawled in his sitting room floor. "Of restaurants and wine. You really know your heavy drinks." He felt slightly awkward as he watched her get fully dressed while he stood stark naked. As she came back into the room, he hastily picked up his bath robe which she had left on his bed.

"But you need to wind up." She said.

"What?" He said, fumbling with his bath-robe. "Uh-Ella-Elda," She held his gaze questioningly.

"Forgive me, for- for before-"

"It was nice meeting you, Draco Malfoy." She said, ignoring what he had just said. He shook her hand numbly, feeling very insulted. "Hope we have more of these times."

The next morning he woke up, feeling confused at why he was sleeping wearing his bath robe, then he remembered last night, and sank into his pillows exhaustedly at the memory. Life was becoming a drab for him. He was doing things just because he had to, and was supposed to. Though when he thought about it as he stood under the shower some minutes later, he thought that that is all he had been doing all along, the whole of his life. He had been doing things, being the way he had been, just because he had to, because he was _supposed_ to. All those acts, the muggle hating drive within him, his actions, they had all happened because he had done what he had perceived he _should_ do. What he had really _wanted _hadn't mattered then because he hadn't really known what to want. His actions had just been a weak mimicry of what people around him wanted him to be like.

Now? What about now? What about today? Does he know now?

He turned to the wall urgently; his hands eager for the cold surface as hotness surged through his body and accumulated in his loin. Of course he knew what he wanted. He licked his lips, trying to control the feeling gaining strength inside him. But it was no use anyway, however hard he tried. He had tried to resist it before too, but he always succumbed to it, because it was pointless. He didn't have the strength. Or maybe the desire was too strong. A small pant escaped from his lips.

Hermione. He wanted Hermione Granger.

Badly. So badly that it felt like pain. The pain intensified as her picture appeared in his mind, of her tousled hair, her pink cheeks, swollen lips...

His cock rose at the image in his mind as if following silent orders. His lips opened in a mute cry and eyes clamped shut. He tried to ignore his pulsating member, but as its throbbing became unbearable, he took it in his hand.

What could anyone do in his position? Or rather his predicament? He could not have her beside him; he could not touch _her_, but the least he was allowed, was to touch himself.

He reached the ministry in a bad mood, which was regular. So nobody paid attention to the half-scowl on his face as he entered his department, hands deep in his robe pockets. The Daily Prophet had branded it the 'Malfoy walk' in his days of trial from the pictures taken of him whenever he used to come out of the trial rooms. Draco reached his office and shut the door behind, wishing the new interns who were waiting for him outside his office, to be gone. He did not want to see anyone. He felt like disappearing away to some distant island whose name people could not even pronounce. He sat down in his chair and swivelled to face the wall, his empty grey wall, and put up his elbows on the chair arms, and closed his eyes.

A moment later, a memo came in flying for him through the fire-grate. He snatched it bad-temperedly, inwardly cursing the person who had sent it.

It was from Perry Hart, his boss. He was asking him to come meet him on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Why the hell, Draco thought before throwing floo powder into the grate and stepping into the flames.

He saw the pudgy behind of Hart's neck as he appeared in the grate. He stepped out, dusting his robe and wished the man his boss was sitting opposite, Diamond Brusly, the head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Goodmornin' Mr. Malfoy." He replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. "How are you taking to the job?" He asked.

You're asking two years late, Draco thought. "Very well, sir."

"Mr. Hart here tell me that you are going to receive a promotion," said Brusly. Draco looked at Hart. "I was going to tell you today," He said.

"First of all I must congratulate you, young man,-"

"Thank you sir,"

"-you must have done a really great job, becoming the Head of a department within two year of joining is a really big thing-"

"What?" said Draco. "I'm becoming the- what about you?" He turned to Perry Hart. He smiled.

"I have been promoted too, I'll be joining the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as its Head."

Before he could himself, Draco had spoken. "What about Hermione Granger?"

Brusly laughed. "That's the reason we have called you today, actually-"

His heart started thudding.

"The thing is, Hermione Granger had applied to join _this_ department six months back, right after she successfully won that Betty elf case," Brusly said. "And she passed the exam too, I don't how she does it, she is so good at _everything_!" Brusly looked giddy with praise. Then he controlled himself.

"Anyway, she has joined my department, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Hart will be joining the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures from tomorrow while you have become the Head of Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, today. Congratulations.

"I called you here today because of the Marilou Belinda Baker Case, you know the one where the squib woman is accused of killing her half-blood magical son? You will be jointly assisting it."

At that point, there came a knock. Draco stiffened, anticipating who it must be.

"Come in!" Brusly called.

The door opened to reveal a bushy haired woman, slightly red in the cheeks, standing at the door holding a folder to her chest. Immediately, Draco lost thread of what was being said, his eyes drew to the lips that uttered something to Brusly, the wide brown eyes, and the lovely colour in the cheeks-

"Ms Granger, I'm hoping you have met Mr Malfoy here?"

Ms Granger's eyes looked at him in surprise, she had noticed him, then the surprise was gone, and she was wishing him a good morning.

Draco, not being able to speak anything, barely nodded.

"Well, Ms Granger, you will be working with Mr Malfoy for the Belinda Baker case, he has just joined as the Head of Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, and he will be helping you on the case."

"Oh really?" She said. Draco noticed the slightly high pitch, but welcomed it, it was the first time in years she was speaking to him. "Congratulations, Mr-Mr Malfoy."

Draco felt like telling her that he had wanked at her thought in the morning. He felt like getting up and grabbing her in his arms. He thought of that evening in sixth when he had kissed her, how she had responded, how her breath had sounded as he had taken her shirt off...

"Thank you, Ms Granger." He replied.


End file.
